


it's a day like all days

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a mind slowly deteriorating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's a day like all days

**Author's Note:**

> writing dark thoughts come easy when you hold such thoughts yourself. I wanted to die so Will Graham wanted to die as well.

it’s the day like any other and Will Graham knows his own name, knows his profession and what people’s eyes look like. Will Graham can name each feeling that itches under his skin but can’t say no when the call comes to the field, to the bodies still warm from slaughter and the stench of death that never quite leaves. It’s a thing to do, he thinks and doesn’t call it a job so that it doesn’t become a responsibility, a duty. Just this one thing and it’s back to the safety of the classroom and to students who listen to him intently. Yet the expression on Jack Crawford’s face is grim and Hannibal Lecter speaks with the sound of rustling leaves and Will stays. And stays. 

x

( it’s a day like any other and Will’s fingers are steady, his eyes focusing on a chin, a shoulder, a wall. Will Graham feels relatively sane at that point, even when nightmares wake him up sweaty and twitchy. )

x

it’s a day like any other when Will Graham shoots a man. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang— ten times and a murderer goes down and there is blood on the floor and on Will and oh,  _oh,_ he can taste it- Will’s fingers are not steady as he drops the gun and stares at the dying murderer and the dying girl and Hannibal Lecter (a friend but really the villain, just watch the calm hide a cruel night you don’t want to live in) who stares back at him with unreadable eyes. “Will,” whispers Hannibal, the name slipping from Hannibal’s mouth like water. Will’s vision is spotted, blood over his glasses. He still feels the stench and the feel of all of the red days and days and days after. 

his hands don’t stop shaking. not when he watches Hannibal sleep next to the bed of the girl whose father Will had just shot (bang, bang, bang and the murderer goes down and Will sees the dying man’s awful face when his eyes are open). Not when Will  _"does his thing"_ (so graciously put by the colleagues) and the scenes flickering in front of his eyes are not his own- from where he comes back to reality with a blink of an eye and a wide stare. A sweat drop on his brow. His glasses keep slipping and maybe it’s safer that way. No need to face Hannibal’s night-eyes or Alana’s concerned stare. 

x

it’s a day unlike any other when time keeps

(slipping)

getting past Will’s ears and eyes and mouth and mind, when he finds himself in forests and rooms and in front of faces it takes him a moment to recognize

So like liquid, thinks Hannibal. Just a curve of his lips tells of a secret amusement, a pat on Will’s shaking shoulder tells of a feeling twisted beyond recognition. Hannibal tells the truth to everyone’s faces and yet none of them realize, see the horns peeking out from under light strands, just above the night-black eyes. 

A girl under the bed. A doctor easily manipulated. Will connects and Hannibal breaks those connections.

x

It’s a day unlike any other when Will blinks and there it is, the creature, the monster, the stag made of raven-feathers except in the shape of a human and he knows

he knows he knows he knowsheknows _heknows_

A cold creature-hand twists Will’s guts round and round and round, his mind in shambles, the shards poking him and making him bleed. 

The jail-door slams on Will’s face and he claws at it, claws the edges of his mind because the night was always sleeping under Hannibal Lecter’s skin and no one saw, no one saw that Hannibal’s snake-nails were pressed against Will’s arm from the beginning.

There was a day like any other when Will Graham remembered his own name and time and place and Hannibal Lecter was just someone Will couldn’t look in the eye. Yet it isn’t so, a stag made of corpse-eating ravens haunted Will’s mind and Hannibal Lecter pulled the strings and Will Graham couldn’t tell the time or his own name, couldn’t say why two hours passed and he remembers none of it, why tears burned his eyes and he didn’t know why. 

The jail door slams on Will’s face and amidst the all-too-much he feels there is something new. Anger. 

.


End file.
